


Double the Drabble - Sansaery edition

by Saraste



Series: Double the Drabble - August 2019 [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Double Drabble, F/F, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-07-28 21:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20070631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: A bit of enthusiastically consensual bondage.





	1. Chapter 1

Margaery watches Sansa from across the ballroom filled with beautiful people in gorgeous clothes, but those others could very well be dressed in rags, for all the attention Margaery allows them: she only sees Sansa.

Sansa is talking with a man, Margaery isn’t bothered, just sighs and feels a little bad for his ultimate disappointment, which is inevitable as the sun rising every morning, as Margaery kissing Sansa first thing every day and Sansa looking at her with a little awe, still wondering a little about how she came to be there, with Margaery.

Soon, Margaery will walk over to Sansa in a swirl of petticoats and confidence, to dance the night away with her. She’ll watch for a little while still. Lingering.

For a moment, she focuses on the looks Sansa is receiving, preening that it is  _ she _ who Sansa is waiting for, who Sansa wants looking at her.

And there is  _ that look _ addressed at her, Sansa hurrying her up, wanting her, needing her, desiring her. They are not whole when apart, but together… together they are absolutely fucking unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with, ready to take on a kingdom, if need be.

She starts walking.


	2. sweetness of her reckless abandon

Margaery drinks in the freedom and liberty of Sansa’s ceaseless moans, sinks into the sweetness of her reckless abandon, her unrestrained passion.

Sansa looks at her in the aftermath, in the lull between  _ needing to touch _ , an intermission of catching breath and aching in a good way and still desiring, as there is never enough in the first flush of a newly formed coupling. Margaery revels under the scrutiny of Sansa’s gaze, preens and presents herself at her best, receiving a raised eyebrow for her troubles.

A playful wind makes love the freely flowing curtains, mixing laughter from the gardens into the sigh and swell of the sea.

Margaery gives voice to her delight as Sansa’s clever tongue finds all her tender places, her not-so-secrets points of passion, and rises her higher and higher until there is no higher to go and the only way is down, drowning in the summer-sweetness heedlessness of climax.

They curl together around one another, both spent and almost sore, but the sort of soreness born of pleasure, which could still be teased into a peak, which would be a mix of pleasure-pain, just on the edge of too much.

Fingers find fingers and clasp.


	3. the brightness of her life, the colour of her days

Margaery is the brightness of Sansa's life, the colour of her days, the steadfast foundation upon which she can build her life, their life, together.

'You're my most important person,' Sansa often says, breathing heavy, when they are but a tangle of limbs and bedsheets, 'you know that, right?'

Margaery is always smiling then, though she seems to have a smile for Sansa at any given occasion, a willing and genuine smile, infectious and grounding. She kisses Sansa soundly now, shares the taste of their pleasure in that kiss again, which stirs both, stoking the undercurrent of passion forever sparking between the two of them. 'I know, dearest, and you are mine,' she says into the secret shared breath-space after their kiss.

Sansa snugs close to her side, feeling very much that absolutely everything is right with the world, as it should be, when Margaery is at her side, steadfast and present, intertwining their lives, never letting go.

The world is painted with the myriad shades of colour stemming from their love, and Sansa cannot remember a time when her colours were muted, her shades less vivid, nor would she want to, because then there would have never been Margaery.


	4. suspended

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of enthusiastically consensual bondage.

The pads of Margaery’s fingers are soft as she touches her, sending a shiver down Sansa’s spine. She’s helpless, utterly at Margaery’s mercy, loving every single breath-stopping second. There’s nothing but Margaery’s touch, her fingers, her lips, her laughter making air tickle Sansa’s sensitive skin, now hungry and aware and catching at every single sensation, her heart stilling when Margaery isn’t touching, waiting on the edge of anticipation until she does. She can revel in the touch and Margaery’s voice alone, blindfolded as she is, her body restrained by craftily applied ropes holding her suspended.

‘I have half a mind to leave you here,’ Margaery says, somewhere to her left, running her fingers along Sansa’s spine.

Sansa makes what she hopes is a delightful-sounding grunt through her gag. She can always wait. And waiting for Margaery’s touch is always a good thing.

Margaery’s hand is cupping her breast, sending a shiver through her. She could be embarrassed over being as wet as she is, but she isn’t, Margaery likes it, and there is no shame in anything that goes on between them in bed or out.

A shift and Margaery’s fingers are teasing between her legs. ‘But I won’t.’


	5. Chapter 5

There’s nothing demure in the way Sansa stands by Margaery’s side, not an inch of her that tries to shy away. It is Margaery’s want to show her off, to show others what she has and what they cannot touch, taste, hear.

Although Sansa is sometimes heard by others, if not seen as Margaery takes her in a private space, unless it’s because there’s something pulsing and vibrating within her, which makes her squirm and whimper and bite her lip as Margaery looks on, amused.

The collar around her neck and the thin, shimmering chain that Margaery uses to lead Sansa to follow are the only things Sansa needs on her to not feel completely naked, and it is Margaery alone who sees her as she comes, when she is completely exposed and defenseless and  _ naked _ . But there is no shame in the nakedness of her body in a crowd, as she’s fit and pleasing to look at, the most gorgeous thing, as Margaery often tells her, so why not let herself be exposed, if that’s what Margaery wants?

What Margaery wants Margaery gets, and Sansa will reap the rewards, when they have their privacy and Margaery takes her time.


	6. homecoming

Sansa draws Margaery to her into an almost violently passionate kiss.

Margaery responds with equal intensity, her slim fingers hastily undressing Sansa, as Sansa does to her, to touch, to grab, to hold; neither of them is completely naked when Sansa topples Margaery onto the bed.

‘I’ve missed you…’ Sansa whispers into the crook of Margaery’s bent knee, before kissing there and inducing squirming, yet that is all Margaery does.

Margaery spreads her legs, inviting Sansa under her knickerless skirts, where she throbs, eager and willing. ‘Missed you too. Show me how much you missed me?’

Sansa does, and Margaery comes quick and gasping, body bowing over Sansa’s by the force of her climax, hands sunken into her fiery hair, words reduced to breathless nonsense, though no words are needed when the yearning of bodies is answered to.

Margaery’s fingers are Sansa’s undoing when their positions are reversed, Sansa’s fingers clutching the coverlet as she comes and comes and comes, grasping for coherence, drowning in the bliss of Margaery.

They end up entwined, still half clothed, in each other’s arms, touching lazily, until they fall asleep, only to rouse in the deep of night and undress each other and _indulge_.


	7. the endless sea

Sometimes, Margaery stands outside, stares at the endless sea and sighs.

She doesn’t hear, or pretends not to, Sansa coming, so she can wind her hands around Margaery’s waist and rest her hair on her shoulder, looking out onto the sea as well, filled with a distinct longing, a wild yearning for escape.

‘We could go, if you wanted,’ is what Sansa, always Sansa, says, feels Margaery shift under her arms.

‘We could, but only if you wanted to,’ Margaery always replies and no decision is ever made and the days grow short and bitter and death stalks nearer as Westeros burns.

They spend their nights sequestered in their rooms, learning each others pleasures, speaking words held in for too long. Both wish for the world to wait, to stop outside their hideaway, but it won’t, and they know that it won’t and they still pretend that it will, that it might, that it would, and  _ should _ , for is their love not a sufficient force to make it happen if they will it deeply enough?

In the end, they stand on a boat, watching the shore disappearing, taking with it all they once knew that will soon be no more.


	8. always obliging

‘Please…’ Sansa whimpers, shivering, as Margaery trails a gentle hand along her back where her skin is reddened, where the criss-crossing pattern of Margaery’s blows is showing quite nicely.

Margaery places her hand at Sansa’s neck, pressing there a bit, centering them both. ‘More?’ she asks, and her voice is not a command, is not pushing, never pushing.

‘Yes,’ is not an uneasy word out of Sansa’s mouth, but a breathless  _ could you?  _

And Margaery, always obliging, withdraws, and raises her arm.

Sansa’s hands grip the chains harder as her body moves with the swing of Margaery’s blows, and she’s panting softly, making little pleased sounds, gasping at Margaery’s encouragement, even if she would take it, want it anyway.

‘Come here, you were so good, my good girl…’ Margaery says in the end, puts aside her switch and carefully gathers Sansa in her arms, not touching her back, kisses the top of her head. one of her hands moves down to give Sansa her finish, to quench the thirst that’s been building, to topple her from her peak, and Sansa goes whimpering. _ _

Then she takes care of her, smiling pleased, murmuring praise and delighting at her good fortune in her.


End file.
